Thanks, Santa
by Titan5
Summary: John visits Santa the Christmas after the bank robbery in yet another sequel to Send in the Clowns. This one is strictly a snapshot from John’s childhood.


**Title:** Thanks, Santa

**Author:** Titan5

**Summary:** John visits Santa the Christmas after the bank robbery in yet another sequel to Send in the Clowns. This one is strictly a snapshot from John's childhood.

**Note: **I'm afraid my love of all things Santa kind of took off without me toward the end. If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm a hopeless sap.

**THANKS, SANTA**

The small hand in hers strengthened its grip as John pushed closer to Rachel Sheppard's side. In turn, she squeezed her young son's hand briefly, letting him know that everything was all right. She had almost had to force him to stand in line to see Santa this year and she knew it was a direct result of the bank heist they had survived a mere three months ago. Santa wasn't exactly a clown, but the garish dress was enough to make a traumatized six-year old nervous and unsure. Once again she had to squash down the absolute hate she felt for the men who had so ruined her son's life. A child this age shouldn't be afraid of clowns, afraid to go out on Halloween, afraid to sit in Santa's lap. And a mother shouldn't wring her hands in worry every time her son left her sight.

A bump from behind her startled her into realizing the line had moved up. With a deep breath, she moved them forward to the front of the line. John would be next. Kneeling beside her wide-eyed son, she pried her hand from his and straightened his shirt. "It's just Santa, John. You do this every year."

"I know," he said nervously. His lower lip quivered just a second before he clenched his jaws tightly to make it stop. He was trying to be brave for her, making her both proud and sad.

"I'll be waiting right here for you when you're done. We can send the picture to your dad so he can see how you looked, okay?"

"Okay."

"Ma'am, are you going to want a photograph?"

Rachel stood and turned to the woman dressed as Mrs. Santa Clause behind the table. She couldn't help but notice how the white wig and wire-rimmed glasses didn't go with the teen-age face under it all. "Yes, I'd like Package B," she answered. That would give her one picture to put on the mantle and one to send to Joe, currently half-way around the world.

She paid for the pictures and looked at the child just leaving Santa's lap, skipping to where his mother awaited. At least the Santa looked real. He was obviously an older gentleman who looked to have a real beard. He had a friendly smile and gentle eyes. She had been praying they didn't get some grouch who'd rather be anywhere else than sitting on a fake throne in the middle of a mall.

Mrs. Clause stood and reached for John's hand. "Okay, it's your turn, kid. Wanna go see Santa?"

John clutched her leg desperately, suddenly panicked. Rachel reached down and took his hand again before looking up at the surprised girl. "Can I walk him over?"

The girl hesitated for a moment, obviously not used to children John's age being afraid. "Uh, I guess."

With a nod, Rachel steered John toward the smiling Santa. "Just remember John, it's just Santa. He would never hurt anyone, especially a child."

When they arrived, the Santa seemed to sense John's fear and didn't reach for him. Instead, he leaned over and grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Hello, John. Would you like to sit in my lap a minute so your mom can get a picture? And you can tell me what you want for Christmas. I know you've been a good boy this year."

Rachel stared at the Santa. She didn't think she had spoken loud enough for anyone else to hear, but how else would this man know John's name. Glancing down, she saw John looking up at her, wanting to go and yet afraid. With a big smile, she nodded to him. "I'll wait just over there," she said pointing to the exit. "Then we can go to McDonald's for lunch."

With a sigh much too old for his years, John let go of her hand and reached up for Santa. Rachel stood, glued to the floor for a few seconds until she was sure John wasn't going to freak out. He looked nervous still, but he wasn't panicking, so she turned her back and forced herself to walk all the way to the little wooden fence with the fake greenery weaved through it before turning around. Then she edged down the fence until she could hear what they were saying.

John studied the Santa's face carefully, and the man sat silently letting him. After a few moments, he chuckled and patted John on the shoulder. Rachel could almost see the boy relaxing under the man's skilled touch. "So John, what do you want from old Santa this Christmas?" His voice was deep, but friendly and soothing.

A slight frown furrowed John's brow as he looked earnestly up at the old man's face. "Santa, sir . . . I'd really like my daddy to come home, so he could keep my mom and me safe. I'm not a very good peer . . . pre . . . pretector."

Rachel thought her heart might stop right in her chest and she couldn't breathe for a moment. Tears welled and she fought against letting them fall, barely aware that she was clenching her fists.

Santa's expression sobered a moment and then his eyes went wide. He nodded as if he understood what was happening and Rachel wondered if he recognized John now from the news reports that had haunted them for almost two weeks.

"Your dad is in the Air Force, right?"

"Yes, sir. He's over . . . over the sea right now and it's just me and my mom. If the bad men come, I can't make her be safe. I'm too little."

"Well, you know, I have to disagree, John. I think you've done a very fine job keeping her safe. She looks okay to me. I know your mother and father are both very proud of you. I can't bring your dad home right now, but how about if I help keep an extra eye on you and your mom, to help you keep her safe until your dad can come home?"

"Really?" asked John, his eyes wide with wonder. "You can do that?"

Santa laughed, a hearty and jolly laugh. Rachel smiled at the thought that this man was truly jolly, like the poem. He squeezed John in a little hug. "Yes, I can do that. And I have many helpers, scattered all across the world, that can help me keep you and your mom safe until your dad comes home."

"Cool." The relief in the child's face and the way his small body almost collapsed against the big red suit made Rachel wince. She knew he had been tense, but she hadn't realized just how worried he'd been until now. Since the robbery, she had fought a battle of John's nightmares, nervousness at leaving her alone during the day, and faltering appetite. Lately, she had begun to wonder if a child his age could get ulcers.

"Okay," Santa said, "now that we have that taken care of, is there anything you want me to bring you? A toy perhaps?"

John looked thoughtful for a moment and then his face brightened. "Well, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, I been wanting a skateboard. Mom's afraid I'll get hurt on one, but I tried out Gary's and it was really fun."

Santa laughed again, throwing his head back. "A skateboard it is! Maybe a blue one with orange and yellow flames?"

John's eyes almost popped out of his head, making Rachel laugh. "How did you know? I saw that one at the store last week and it's the coolest one ever!"

Santa glanced over at Rachel and she gave a reluctant nod. As hard as she'd fought against it, it looked like she'd be getting that skateboard for John after all. If it could take his mind off trying to protect her from bad guys and give him a few minutes of the pleasures a child should enjoy, then it would be worth the scraped hands and knees. She had discovered physical pain was a lot easier to deal with than the mental anguish he'd endured the past few months. At least she knew what to do for cuts and scrapes.

"How about if we give the camera a big smile? Let's show your mom and dad what a good Christmas this is going to be," said the Santa.

John nodded and turned around the face the camera, the biggest smile she'd seen on his face in months. The camera flashed and John gave Santa a big hug.

"Thank you, Santa. Thank you so much!"

The old man brushed one gloved hand across his eyes as John jumped down. "John, you want a candy cane?" he asked, handing one to the now happy child.

John took the candy and thanked Santa again before bounding over to Rachel and grabbing her around the waist with a hug. "Thanks mom, for bringing me to see Santa. He's the best ever."

Rachel grinned and hugged him back, happy she had trusted her instincts on this one. "Okay, let's get your picture and then we'll go eat." By the time she pried her child from around her waist, the teenage Mrs. Clause was handing her an envelope with her pictures. Glancing back up at the Santa, she noticed he was different. Now it was younger, skinny man with a very fake looking beard and white hair. "Where did the other Santa go?" she asked, looking around.

Mrs. Clause frowned and looked at the man in the red suit on the throne. "That's Harold. He's been here all morning," she replied, looking at Rachel like she was crazy before returning to her desk.

Rachel stared at the Santa, who was definitely _not _the Santa her son had seen and then looked down at John. He looked up at her and smiled. "I liked the other Santa better. He was cool. Can I see the picture?"

_The picture. _Rachel fumbled with the envelope for a moment before pulling one of the pictures out. Before she got a good look, John grabbed her arm and pulled it down where he could see. They both stared at the picture of John with a big smile on his face and the older, more genuine looking Santa he had spoken to.

"See, mom, I took a good picture with Santa. Can we go eat now? I'm hungry." John let go of her arm and bounced up and down while she stared in disbelief. She could count on her fingers the number of times John had been this interested in food in the last three months. If John was this excited about eating, she didn't want to miss the opportunity. He was so thin that she worried constantly about him getting sick.

"Okay, okay, sweetie, we're going. Just let me put the picture away so we don't mess it up." Glancing down at the picture, she flinched when it looked like Santa's eyes twinkled. Shaking it off, she carefully placed the picture back in the envelope. She had no idea what had happened and would probably waste a lot of time the next few days trying to explain it to herself in a rational way. But when it came right down to it, it didn't matter. What mattered was the child now dragging her toward the McDonald's in the food court and the smile on his face.

Maybe now John could relax and enjoy Christmas like a six-year old should instead of worrying about protecting his mom. For the first time in a while, it at least seemed a possibility.

One week later on Christmas morning, Rachel was awakened at exactly 5:03 a.m. It was such a relief to hear excited squeals instead of terrified cries that she didn't even care about the early hour. The sound of crashing furniture, however, did get her attention. She decided that she should probably get up while she still had a house to get up to. Another crash, followed by rambunctious laughing made her smile. She was finally convinced that John would have a good Christmas and that eventually, they would be okay. Looking out the window at the darkened sky above, she remembered the twinkle in the eyes of the old gentleman in the red suit. _Thanks, Santa._

THE END


End file.
